


The Huntsman

by missmaddie



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4366997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmaddie/pseuds/missmaddie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers Julian dragging his paints whever he went and proudly explaining them to him and Helen. He remembers his father and Lucia cooing over them. He remembers Emma and enthusiastic pillow fights. He remembers her sometimes raking stares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Huntsman

On his best days, he’ll think of them as he wakes and they’ll stay with him all day. 

He’ll remember the white blonde of Helen’s hair in the sunlight and how her pink mouth would whisper the most beautiful words into Aline’s ears. 

He remembers the way her blue green eyes filled with tears as she whispered she was the worst kind of shadowhunter, crying on his bed and the way she’d quieted down when he pet her hair and whispered he’d never leave her, never stop loving her, never ever.

He remembers Julian dragging his paints whever he went and proudly explaining them to him and Helen. He remembers his father and Lucia cooing over them. He remembers Emma and enthusiastic pillow fights. He remembers her sometimes raking stares.

He remembers Dru being picky and throwing fits. He remembers the stuffed lamb she keeps (or used to keep) by her side. He remembers her crying out for it as a baby.

He remembers Tibs and his wails only Livvy could soothe. He remembers Tibs showing off his bees and telling him their names. He remembers Tibs force feeding them fresh honey. He remembers Octavian and his baby knees and his impossibly big eyes. 

On good days the memories fill him up and he finds the hunt especially unbearable. He balks at the barbaric Gywn and the silver tongued Kieran. He can feel the perpetual itch of his blood stained skin.

On bad days he wakes up with Kieran’s mouth and then he’s definitely not thinking of Helen or Tibs. He finds beauty in the cleaning of corpses and thrill of battle. On bad days, the hunt is not a way of life, but life itself, in the way it’s intwinned so completely with death.

He recalls everything as he lays down to sleep and he doesn’t hate the clave or the seelie queen or Sebastian Morgenstern. He hates himself. Because yeah, they made him join the hunt and taste the blood and ichor, but no one made him like it. No, he stains his teeth by his own conviction and he falls.


End file.
